


Like Toy Soldiers

by trash king murphamy (blackmaggiecat)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: i really needed to write about bellamy this season, kind of a characterstudy, this is all angst and i'm only slightly sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmaggiecat/pseuds/trash%20king%20murphamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Bellamy had ever been was a soldier. It was all he knew how to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Toy Soldiers

Bellamy Blake had always been a soldier.

 

It was what he was good at. From nearly as far back as he could remember, he had always obeyed orders, protected people. He had protected Octavia since the day she was born, closely following his mother's instructions to keep her safe. She was the princess, and he was the knight in shining armor, the soldier stationed outside her castle to keep her safe.

 

Or, well, he was.

 

He had tried, he had made a choice for once in his life, to do something for her. He had, for once, made an independent decision. He knew how much she hated being trapped between the same four walls her whole life, how much she wanted to see the Ark and the windows and the Earth. 

 

So he decided to do something nice, for her, because he hated to see her hurting. He made the mask, and he made a plan, to let her out for a night. He knew that it was his job to protect her, but all he wanted to do was make her happy.

 

He should have known to rule with his head instead of his heart. She should have know, and he shouldn't have let her out, but he did and it ruined everything. 

 

He was supposed to be a soldier, a mindless body and he'd tried to fashion himself into a hero instead. He was not a hero.

 

He thought he could be a soldier again. He hoped that maybe, if he tried hard enough, and did everything he was told, then maybe he could pay his penance for what he'd done, and maybe they would pardon Octavia, and maybe he could go back to protecting her again.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy Blake was a soldier. A follower. He was never a leader. 

 

But when he fired that shot at the Chancellor, when he was sent down to Earth, he had to become a new kind of soldier. It was the only way he could follow his mother's orders still, the only way he could continue to protect his sister. 

 

Except when he hit the ground, he couldn't be just a soldier anymore. He had to protect these kids. He had to protect his sister. But there was no one there to tell him what to do, no one to take orders from. He had to make the choices, he had to make so many choices and all he can think is  _this is it. This is was how he'd pay his penance._  

 

And then there was Clarke, and she almost reminded him of his mother, all authority and decision-making. Whenever he looked at her, all he could think of was his mother's face when she floated, when he had screwed up. He wanted to hate Clarke, but he didn't. When Clarke started to lead with him, it was almost a relief. He didn't have to do this alone. He could choose to be the General instead of the Corporal. He could choose his own path.

 

But as hard as he tried, it wasn't working. He tried to make the right choices over and over again, but people kept dying. They kept dying, and he kept failing. He began to wonder if that was because he wasn't doing his job, if it was because he was giving orders instead of taking them. He wondered if maybe this wasn't his place. 

 

* * *

 

When Clarke left after the two of them fell the mountain, Bellamy wondered what he'd done wrong.

 

In that moment, he had been a leader. In that moment, he had protected his people. In that moment, he had followed his most important order, to protect Octavia. He thought he had done what was right. 

 

But Clarke still left, and the delinquents were broken, and Bellamy was alone. 

 

He wondered if he was good enough to be a leader after all. He wondered if he was really only cut out to be a soldier.

 

* * *

 

When Charles Pike approached Bellamy, offering him a way to get rid of the people who had been hunting them since they hit the ground, Bellamy jumped at the opportunity. It felt natural, following orders, protecting his people. It was what he had been born to do, what he had spent his life doing before he was dropped onto Earth.

 

But he couldn't escape the way his sister looked at him, the way Lincoln avoided him, the way Kane talked down to him about morality. He couldn't stop thinking about when Clarke had stopped in, only to tell him he was doing everything wrong. He couldn't ignore the pain of his sister and Clarke betrayed him before fleeing. 

 

He ignored it. He followed orders. He protected his people. He did the right thing.

 

Didn't he?

 

* * *

 

Bellamy was losing ground to his own morality. 

 

He had tried, he had tried so hard to do the right thing. He had followed orders. He had protected his people. He had tried.

 

But whenever he looked at his hands, he could seed the grounder blood staining them. Every time he looked at a grounder, he saw Monroe, saw her dying from the acid smoke while he was powerless to stop it. 

 

And now Kane, his father figure, the man who had helped him survive the last six months, was going to be sentenced to death. And maybe Sinclair, and Lincoln too. And somehow, Bellamy knew it was all his fault.

 

What had he done wrong? He had done what he was raised to do. He had taken orders, worked his hardest to follow them. He had strived to protect those he loved.

 

And he had failed. 

 

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know who he was.

 

He had tried to make his own choice, and it had cost his mother's life and Octavia's freedom. He had tried to be a leader, and it ha cost him dozens of lives. He had tried to be a soldier, and it had cost him nearly everything.

 

Bellamy Blake had only ever always been a soldier. It was all he knew how to be. And now, he couldn't even be that.


End file.
